


Suits Are a Sight to Behold

by shiverfawkes



Series: Trans!John Watson [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blow Jobs, FTM John Watson, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Self-Doubt, Smut, Trans Character, Trans John, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:53:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiverfawkes/pseuds/shiverfawkes
Summary: John Watson in a suit, is something Sherlock didn't know he wanted.But now he'd gotten it, he needed it





	Suits Are a Sight to Behold

Sherlock stood, hands behind his back, gripping his wrist with his right hand hand as he stared across the hall. His eyes darting from person to person, noting the details, deciphering their motives.

It was the least he could do to entertain himself. John was talking with Sergeant Donovan and Anderson, he wasn't too far away, but Sherlock couldn't be bothered listening to Donovan's criticisms, nor Andersons boring drawl that she seemed to adore.

It was some sort of celebration for the police. They were in a grand hall, ornately decorated, and everybody was dressed in their best. Or at least that was the saying, he couldn't exactly say that everyone had followed it.

John certainly had.

The doctor was standing, his hands clasped behind his back as he listened, or tried to, to Anderson and Donavon talk about whatever nonsense they decided was interesting in that moment. Truthfully he should have been worried that spending too much time engaging with those idiots would reduce John's intellect, but he was too busy staring at the doctor to care.

His eyes traced the way that the suit hugged John's waist and chest, the slight curve in his hips concealed by the suit, it was tailor made, but John would never admit it. The suit was the most expensive article of clothing he owned.

John was trans, the premade suits never fit him quite right.

Sherlock knew from the moment they met.

When the doctor walked through the door of the lab with Stanford, at first he would have never guessed. He picked up the limp and the tremor from the get-go, but him being trans? That took a second glance.

John naturally stood with his legs pressed together, despite the fact that he sat with his legs spread. At first it was presumable but that was due to his army background, his posture, apart from the limp, was rigid and proper. That was until John focused on Sherlock more and deliberately adjusted his stance to match. He still had that habit, though he'd become more conscious about it.

The confirmation came when Sherlock found a needle that wasn't his in the bathroom.

He'd had top surgery a few months before, he claimed something about a flu, as an excuse to why he was bed ridden. 

Needless to say, Sherlock couldn't care less.

He hated what John did to him somehow adoring it at the same time. The thoughts he put in his head. How excitingly human he made him.

His focused returned to John, who was now tapping his hands against the sides of his legs, his shoulders had tensed and his smiles weren't real anymore. He was uncomfortable, normally Sherlock would enjoy watching the shorter man squirm and stammer, eventually giving up and huffing out an exasperated breath. But he didn't like this, probably because it was other people doing it to his doctor. So swiftly, Sherlock picked up two champagne flutes from a passing member of staff. He handed one to John as he approached, the doctor took it with a soft smile.

"Nice of you to join us." He spoke, nodding at Sherlock.

"Having fun, freak?" Donovan asked. Sherlock glanced at her for a moment before replying.

"Yes, that's one way of putting it." He took in a breath before continuing. "Well, there is a free room up the stairs, its the janitors closet, fairly soundproof. She has chronic OCD so the room will be spacious, and she only works Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays." He nodded at the two, who didn't seem to get it, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes. "Sergeant Donovan, you're wearing the perfume Anderson likes, your dress is his favourite colour, and seemingly you listened when he said you were perfect without makeup, and instead chose a nude palette knowing he wouldn't know the difference. Lestrade could have worked out that you are desperate for intercourse. Now go." John stared at him in disbelief, he'd become adjusted to the deductions, internalising his astonishment. The other two scowled at him but walked toward the stairs anyway.

"Sherlock, you worded it cleverly, but even I got that. What's up?" John asked, turning to face him directly.

Sherlock adored how John had to look up at him, he could imagine how the doctor would have to stand on his toes to kiss him.

"Oh, yes, right. I'm bored." Sherlock went to put his hand on John's arm, it took him a split second to realise that would be a gesture, far out of his norm, and instead went to push his hair behind his ear. He cursed himself for being rash, as John gave him a confused glance. "I did my time, got my congratulations-"

"Oh yes, how dare they applaud you." John cut him off, a smirk on his face, and Sherlock rolled his eyes, trying to ignore how much that expression made him tingle.

He downed the champagne in his glass. "Can we leave now?"

John shrugged mimicking his actions. "Sure. I just need to let Lestrade know."

"Gavin can work it out himself."

"Sherlock." John warned, handing the taller man his glass. Sherlock took it reluctantly, rolling his eyes to himself as he payed too much attention to how their fingers touched.

John approached Lestrade, who smiled upon seeing him. "John! What can I do for you?"

"Sherlock and I are gonna head off, its past his bedtime." John replied, and Greg laughed.

He put a hand on John's shoulder. "Read him a bed-time story for me will you?"

The doctor smiled, shaking his head, turning to walk to the doors, where Sherlock was waiting for him, typing furiously on his phone. "You're ready to leave?" He asked, not even looking up.

"Clearly you are."

"Cabbie's just arrived, come on." Sherlock replied, offering John a smile before he put his phone in his pocket.

Sherlock was odd. John knew that. But he was acting a different kind of odd tonight, and John couldn't tell what the reasoning behind it was. Sherlock opened the cab door for him, and he slid over to the other side.  "Baker street, please." He told the cab driver, who nodded.

The first few minutes were filled with comfortable silence.

Then Sherlock placed a hand on his knee.

He froze, glancing over at the taller man, who was staring out the window at the streets as they drove past.

"What're you doing?" His tone wasn't one of outrage but asking for confirmation. He knew for a fact what Sherlock was doing. Unless it was an experiment, then he may as well shoot himself because no doubt would the taller man know in an instant, his feelings toward him.

"Shut up." Sherlock replied, knowing for a fact that the demand would go straight to his cock, and despite his lack of interest on the matter, making the cabbie uncomfortable would most certainly embarrass John, and he never took kindly to that. 

"But I-"

"Shut up before I make you." Sherlock replied, turning to glance at the doctor, his eyes piercing him. He moved his hand up John's leg slightly, the doctors breath hitched. He smirked as he looked the other way. "Christ, I should have accounted for traffic." He cursed himself, feeling John staring at him.

John practically threw the money at the cabbie wen they pulled up at Baker Street. He was desperate for Sherlock to touch him again, wanting his hands on his neck, and his back and other places he couldn't even believe he was thinking.

He ran up the stairs, and Sherlock was waiting at the door of the living room for him. His suit jacket had been discarded, leaving him in the night fitting white shirt. He closed the door once John entered, leaning against him as the doctor stared at him with fire in his eyes. The taller man could see he was turned on, he was fidgeting, and his pupils were dilating. "What was that? In the taxi?" He asked, demanding it almost, there wasn't anger in his voice but a different kind of fierceness. He tried his best to look unphased by it, pulling his shoes off, he'd complained about them earlier.

"You know perfectly well. So tell me what it was."

"You were, are you... Trying to make, a move, on me." He didn't break his gaze.

"I wondered how long it would take you to catch on."

"But you said- when I tried- you're married to your work."

"Well after some thoroughly devised adjustments, I've decided it's an open relationship." Sherlock replied, his voice was low, hitting John's ears with a smoothness that made him shiver. "So get over here and tell me what you want. Sometime this year please."

The doctor walked toward him, his stomach twisting delightfully as Sherlock's hands found his shoulders, and he licked his lips. "Can I kiss you?"

"John, I'm starting to question your intellect if that's a question you have to ask." Sherlock smirked.

"Oh piss off." John swore at him, standing on his toes to press a tentative kiss to Sherlocks lips. They were a unique shape, fitting with John's nicer than anyone else's, he'd fantasized about them, how soft they were. Sherlock kissed him back, harder, impatient. The taller man forced his tongue into John's mouth, and John almost laughed, kissing him back. The genius' mouth was warm, sloppy and quick against his own. He trailed his hands over John's chest, his long fingers moving softly over his hardening nipples.

John pulled away, eyes blown out and his lips were red, Sherlock moved to kiss his neck, in the absence of his mouth. It had just occurred to him that despite having top surgery, his distinct lack of a dick beyond a packer was something that needed to be addressed. He knew for a fact that it could potentially change something, the least of which was whether Sherlock still wanted to do this with him.

"Sherlock- I-"

"I know." John was confused, he _couldn't_ know.

John pulled gently at his hair, and he raised his head, eyes making contact with Johns own, and the doctor lost his breath. He was struggling to think as he stared at Sherlock. He couldn't think of a better way to phrase it. "I'm not- I'm not a re-"

"Don't you fucking dare, John Watson. It's not true, no matter what." Sherlock looked at him, it wasn't a stare of anger, it was a look of concern, of seriousness in a way John hadn't seen. 

"You know?"

"Of course I know. I'm the worlds only consulting detective. And you need to dispose of your shots more discretely."

"You don't care?"

Sherlock smirked. "Why would I?"

"I- I don't know."

"Exactly, now tell me what you want me to do or so help me, god."

"God has a nice ring to it, but John will suffice." John replied and Sherlock scowled at him. "Just touch me before I pass out." 

Sherlock did exactly that, trailing his hands lower, he pressed his palm solid against John's crotch, pushing the packer through the fabric of his trousers, against his skin, and he shuddered.

"You don't know how hard it was, for me to keep my hands off you, having to watch as you flaunted around the room. You're so fucking gorgeous, I was convinced the suit would push me over the edge." His voice was low as he palmed John through his trousers. "If it weren't for the fact you would deem it indecent, I would have done this hours ago."

John fumbled with the buttons on Sherlock's shirt, his hands were shaking, unable to focus as Sherlock rubbed at him through his trousers. "Y-You aren't playing fair." The doctor choked out, resisting the urge to push against him, desperate for more.

Sherlock smirked, pushing harder, watching as John's face contorted into a gasp. The doctor put his hands over Sherlocks shoulders, pressing his head into the crease of his elbow, he was breathing heavily. "When have I ever?" The detective undid his belt with ease, sliding his hand down, and under Johns waistband. He couldn't be bothered trying to deal with the packer, because pulling it out of his boxers would be likely to make things awkward, or embarrass the doctor. 

So instead, he slipped both his thumbs under the waistband, dropping to his knees as he pulled down both John's trousers and boxers, the packer going with them unnoticed.

This left his head at a convenient position. He went with his hand first, licking his fingers before stroking over John's clitoris, enlarged as a result of testosterone. He heard John gasp, and took it as a sign to continue. He pressed gentle kisses up Johns thigh, his hand still going at a steady pace, before his mouth took over.

John hadn't expected Sherlock to be like this. He'd come to terms that Sherlock only bothered with something if he wanted it. He'd imagined the detective holding him for a fraction of a second before leaving again.

This was different. So much different.

It was better than John had ever thought.

"Fuck..." He breathed, his hand on Sherlock's head, fingers woven through the soft curls. He looked down as Sherlock glanced up. And oh fuck did it look like Sherlock was blowing him, taking his cock straight, as his head bobbed a little, his tongue making circles, sending frantic jolts of pleasure through John's body, and he tensed, feeling a wave of warmth, he was getting close. "Sherlock I-" He cut himself off, by choice, and then by a gentle moan as Sherlock's fingers dug into the backs of John's thighs. His mouth was hot and wet against John's cock, the doctor went rigid, fisting a handful of Sherlock's hair, causing him to moan around his clit.

Sherlock pulled his mouth away, using one of his hands to keep John from complaining. "No, do continue." He commanded gently, smirking softly as John began to fall apart, pushing into his hand.

"I can't th-think when you-" He gripped a handful of Sherlock's hair as his body tensed. "You- You already know." John stammered, groaning the last word as Sherlock used the flat of his thumb to jerk him off. Sherlocks face was glistening as a result of the doctors arousal. It was hot.

Sherlock stood up, kissing below John's jawline, his hand working steadily. "I do, that doesn't mean I don't want to hear it. Usually your predictable nonsense is barely tolerable, but I'm certain this is the whole point of the exercise." He spoke deeply into John's ear. His fingers knew exactly where to press and how hard to press there, touching places John didn't even know were sensitive. 

"You smartass. I-I'm fuck-" He jolted forward, his face pressed against Sherlocks collar bone as he moaned into the taller man's porcelain skin. His moans were deep and guttural, they went straight to Sherlock's cock. "I'm so c-close." He spoke, softly enough that he thought Sherlock wouldn't hear it.

"Already?" Sherlock asked.

"Fuck off, y-yes already." John replied, deciding to shut himself up by marking Sherlock's neck, his other hand moving to play with the detectives nipples.

The taller man let out a satisfied hum. "You're so easy." He murmured, feeling John pant into his neck as he used quick lateral strokes, feeling John press into his hand, desperate for more friction.

"No you're just- fuck- you're really good." His voice was strained, his breath hot against Sherlocks skin. "I'm gonna- fuck Sherlock I'm gonna cum." John breathed out, his voice shifting in pitch the closer he got.

His hand crept further south, his fingers brushing gently at his labia. "Is this alright?" He asked gently and John nodded against him. "Okay tell me if I should stop." Sherlock could read anyone else like a book, John though, was slightly more tricky, he didn't want to screw this up. 

Softly at first, he pushed a finger in, a smile crossing his lips as John let out soft, frantic whines, and he added another. "Faster, for the love of fuck go faster." John ordered using the hand that wasn't on Sherlock, to stroke his cock.

Sherlock kissed him, hard, curling his fingers inside John pushing against the soft spot that made John moan into his mouth, melting against him.

Then it hit, and his knees went weak, he broke away, his head dropping forward against the taller mans chest. Sherlock held him up by the waist, his other hand still in between Johns legs, as he pulled the orgasm out of him still. He was shaking, convulsing around Sherlocks fingers. The wave of warm pleasure washed over him and he moaned hard into Sherlocks neck, so loud that Mrs Hudson definitely heard it.

"Fuck." John breathed out again. "Thank you, Christ that was- oh my god." John couldn't speak, he couldn't thing, Sherlocks fingers were still in him and he could feel the taller mans erection underneath his hand.

"You're gorgeous John Watson." Sherlock spoke simply, gently pulling his fingers away.

John glanced down at Sherlocks crotch, seeing the fabric of his trousers strained against his erection. "Can I reciprocate?"

The taller man shrugged. "I wouldn't object."

"Do you want to fuck me? Or will I blow you?" John smirked, seizing control, and surprisingly Sherlock didn't protest. He ran his hands over Sherlock's back, down over his ass, as he tried to steady himself. 

"Both sound enticing." Sherlock paused for a moment trying to work out which would be best.

But John had started on his belt, slipping the trousers over his pale legs. "Both it is then." He replied, crouching to his knees, before pulling his boxers down, licking his hand before wrapping it around Sherlocks cock. It was bigger than be expected but he wasn't complaining, his had fit around it nicely, he was sure his mouth would too.

This had to be the weirdest thing he'd ever done. Here he was, bottom half naked apart from his socks in the living room of his flat, about to take his best-friend's dick in his mouth.

It felt amazing.

He licked the tip of the taller mans cock, before taking it in his mouth, swiping his tongue over the slit. He resist the urge to smile as a soft moan fell from Sherlocks lips.

He'd only ever blown one guy before, so he'd have to learn what Sherlock liked and what he didn't.

Using his hand to fondle Sherlocks balls, he took as much in his mouth as he could without gagging, his nose just about grazing the detectives pubic hair.

Sherlock moaned breathily, leaning against the door, his head thrown back as his hand rested on John's head, as he bobbed his head, picking up speed. "God, _John_." He moaned, and John could have cummed on the spot if he knew Sherlock could say his name like that. He looked up to see the taller man silencing himself with his hand.

John pulled off his cock, licking the tip of it before changing back to using his hand. "Who's bedroom?" He asked.

"My b-bed- it's bigger." John felt the arousal pool in his stomach again, seeing Sherlock reduced to a stuttering mess,  _because_ of him. 

Somehow they managed to tumble into Sherlocks room, and the taller man pushed John down on the bed, leaning over the top of him to kiss him. His hand was working around his own cock and he watched John intently as the doctor played with his own. He'd have to know how John liked it, so he'd know for again.

He grabbed the bottle of lube he kept in his bedside cabinet. He knew for a fact there wasn't any need for a condom, John had his ovaries frozen about six months after he moved in.

John pushed his head back into the mattress as he worked himself up again, using his thumb and forefinger to jerk himself off. "Do you have-"

"Mhm." Sherlock replied, as he squirted some lubricant into his hand, slicking up his cock, an using the excess on John, who shivered at the temperature, adjusting himself so Sherlock had access, one leg over the taller mans shoulder, the other lax against the bed. "Can I-"

"Sherlock, put your dick in me right now or so help me- ah- fuck!" John squeezed his eyes shut, his toes curling as Sherlock pushed in, he had half a mind to thrust in as hard as he could, just to shut John up, but he was gentle, but even that was almost too much for the doctor. John was warm, wet and tight around his cock and he sucked in a breath. "Shirt- off- please!" John's demand was breathless and filled with lust. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, one hand resting just below where John's shirt ended, he used the other to unbutton John's dress shirt, as he began to move gently. He enjoyed how John's breaths synchronised with his thrusts. 

John's chest was beautiful. It wasn't just to do with the softly defined muscles, his pecs and the bare definition of a six-pack. Sherlock didn't realise that was ever a thought that would cross his mind, but it was true; John's body was gorgeous. The scars at his pectorals, deep red and neatly stitched, told a story, showed his strength. Sherlocks scars were bold, a rebellion. John's scars were human, brave. Sherlock rested his hand, the curve from his thumb to his finger resting against the scar. 

He then remembered, for John to know his thoughts he'd have to voice them. 

"You're so beautiful. Ethereal." His voice was low and breathy, and his pace began to quicken and John groaned, staring up at the taller man.

"You can't talk, you're. Fuck that feels so good, oh-  _fuck._ " John gasped, he gripped the sheets with one hand, using the other to cover his eyes as soft repeated moans escaped his lips. 

Sherlock groaned, picking up pace. Usually he found the chase for orgasm tedious, repetitive,  _boring._ But this was far more exciting. His eyes drew their way down John's body, studying how he moved, his facial expressions depending on how hard he thrusted into him. John gripped Sherlock's wrist, his fingers pressing so hard against the skin it might bruise. 

"God you're tight. I'm close. You're getting there, correct?" Sherlock asked, feeling John tighten around him. 

"Y-Yeah." John breathed out, his grip on Sherlock's wrist loosened, and his hand dropped, resting on top of the taller man's own. 

Sherlock leant forward, his body looming over John's. He kissed John heavily, practically panting into his mouth. John wasn't complaining, allowing his hands to roam Sherlock's body, his whole body moving against Sherlock's thrusts. 

"Fuck- I'm- C-Christ,  _John._ " He moaned.

"I know, please, fuck, cum in me Sherlock." John replied, his hot breath on sherlocks skin, his voice sending shivers down Sherlock's spine. 

John clenched around him, as he stroked the doctors cock, and he saw stars. 

"Oh-  _Oh._ " His voice was that of amazement when the pieces aligned in a case, but this was more, this was so much more. 

John convulsing around his cock practically dragged the orgasm out of him, and he held the shaking doctor close. Sherlock moaned his name into John's neck, over and over until it didn't sound like a word anymore. 

And then it was silent, his vision cleared, and he could breath again, John staring at him, with his eyes filled with something other than lust. Sherlock knew exactly what it was and his hear shattered when it faded from view. 

"John I-"

"I know. I know what you're going to say, it's fine." John replied, he tried to break eye-contact, but that was extremely difficult when Sherlock was barely centimetres from his face.

Sherlock frowned. "What? What am I going to say?"

"You're gonna tell me that it was just adrenaline. The suit. I looked more masculine than usual, I looked attractive to you for once, and it drove you to this. Now you're done, you're gonna get up and go on with your day. And its fine, I know its fine."  John replied, his voice was quiet, almost a whisper. It didn't take a genius to realise that it  _wasn't_ fine. That John wasn't fine with it. 

"Wrong." Sherlock replied. "Wrong on every account. I like you John, I like you a lot. Whilst I don't know if I am capable of love, I know that this is more than sexual attraction, more than platonic attraction... I do, genuinely, I do like you." 

"I-"

"I know. I know you're in love with me. I knew before you did." 

"You-"

"I want to love you back. I- I think I can. You changed me. You make the world so much more interesting, John. So give yourself a bit of credit and feel important, because you are. Emotions were never a thing that were praised, and I-I have majority of them suppressed. But I want to love you." 

"I want that too." John smiled softly, reaching a hand up to run his fingers through Sherlocks curls, he pulled the detective down so their lips met, softly. "You're going to sleep. I don't care if you don't want to, you need to." 

"Fine." 

"To do that, you _will_ need to pull your dick out of me." John replied, and Sherlock rolled his eyes. He pushed him up so he was standing again, and gently he pulled away. John groaned at the sudden emptiness. 

Shakily, John pushed himself up, shivering a little, realising now that he was stark naked and they lived in England. He watched Sherlock intently, as he left the room for a moment, coming back with a basin, and a washcloth. 

He ran it over his face, which was still sticky with the remains of John's arousal, that felt like a lifetime ago. He ran it quickly over the rest of his body before passing it to John, who followed his actions.

John pulled Sherlock against him, as the taller man finally got settled under his duvet. "Sherlock?" John asked, he knew there was no point in saying it, because the taller man would've had it worked out the moment the thought entered his head.

"Hm?" Sherlock replied, the hum of his voice vibrating against John's neck.

"Do you care?"

"About what?"

"That I'm not- That I don't have..." John sighed, he couldn't work out how to phrase it.

"That you're transgender? Like I said, why would I? I have no reason not to like it, as I thought I clearly demonstrated moments ago. The number of people I'd be willing do do that with is limited to one."

"I'm sorry."

"For what? Having doubt? Stop it." Sherlock ran his slender fingers down John's back, tracing gentle patterns against his skin, feeling the doctors breath slow down as he began to lose consciousness. "John?"

"What?" John asked, his voice a murmur now. 

"If I ever hear you, or anyone else, saying you aren't a _real_ _man_ , again. I swear, they'll be smelling the colour nine for at least a week." His voice was soft, but threatening, and John smiled against his skin.

"I love you."

"I know."  


End file.
